


Proper Way

by SrebrnaFH



Series: Good Evening [2]
Category: Pride and Prejudice - Jane Austen
Genre: F/M, Modern, Valentine's Day, Will is sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-08
Updated: 2017-12-08
Packaged: 2019-02-12 05:34:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12952401
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SrebrnaFH/pseuds/SrebrnaFH
Summary: This is a small scene, which - should "Good Evening" ever see the light of day as a full story - would be the reconciliation sequence. For the time being it's just what it is - a Naughty Bit ;)





	Proper Way

Elizabeth's phone rang shrilly at 3:50 in the morning. As she reached for it blindly, she managed to knock it off her nightstand and barely caught it before it hit the floor.  
"What?" she muttered groggily.  
"Miss Bennet?" a strict-accented woman asked, but didn't wait for positive reply. "Mrs de Bourgh wishes to speak to you."  
"No bloody way" Lizzie laid back on her bed. "Am not talking to her at this hour."  
"Watch your language, missy!"  
She would recognise this voice anywhere.  
"Mrs de Bourgh, I have no idea what you want, but at this time of the night I, frankly, don't care. Please leave me alone and find someone else to pester" she yawned.  
"Night? It's almost ten o'clock, young lady, and you should be ashamed of yourself. In bed, when you should be at work! Or perhaps you don't work anymore? I heard something to this effect..."  
"Madame. No employer in the whole bloody US could induce me to wake up before 4 a.m. Please look up some information on time zones and have a nice life."  
She pressed the "disconnect" button on the telephone, listening to the spluttering in the receiver.  
As she fixed her pillow, the bedroom door opened just a bit.  
"Lizzie? Who was that? I heard you yelling..." Jane trailed off as the phone ringed again.  
"Yes?" Lizzie spat angrily.  
"Miss Bennet, you ARE going to listen to me!"  
"Like hell I am!"  
Disconnect.  
"Who is it?"  
"You remember the Wicked Witch of the West?"  
"Generally... yes?" Jane yawned.  
The phone rang.  
"Miss Bennet!"  
"Sod off and DIE!"  
Disconnect.  
"So this one is somewhat alike, but would need acid, not water."  
The phone rang.  
"I said, go and..."  
"You will stop this yelling now, Miss Bennet!"  
"Same to you!"  
Disconnect.  
Lizzie buried her face in her hands.  
Sleepy and tousled Charlie appeared in the door.  
"Wazzup?" he managed to mumble before leaning on Jane's back and hugging her.  
"Apparently Lizzy has a stalker. Or something."  
"More like a pain in the ass."  
The phone rang. Lizzy balled her hands into fists and waited.  
The answering machine kicked in.  
"You reached Jane and Lizzie. We are not in or we can't pick up at the moment. Please, leave the message after the signal."  
*peep*  
"Miss Bennet, you'd better pick up this phone NOW! The insolence! How dare you ignore my calls!? Even better, though, I'll tell you everything now and you will listen..."  
"Who's this?" Charlie quizzed.  
"Catherine de Bourgh" Lizzie managed to answer before the caller gathered her wits and started anew.  
"You must know, Miss Bennet, that I was never very taken with your supposed charm, so it will not stop me from expressing my opinions clearly..."  
"As if anything could" Lizzie rubbed her eyes.  
"...and you are a worthless little strumpet, searching for men under the cover of your so-called translation agency! I looked through you the very moment I heard about it! There always are girls like you, pretending good intentions to draw in respectab..."  
*peep*  
"How long does this machine record?" Charlie asked with a mild interest in his voice.  
"Four minutes" Jane sounded somewhat surprised. "Lizzy, who the hell is this?"  
The phone started ringing again.  
"Shit. William's aunt" Lizzie just lied down on her bed, waiting for the next round.  
"Is she crazy?" Jane watched the phone with wary eyes.  
"Kind of. Listen."  
"So you think you may cut me off? Well, I'm not finished! I'll tell my nephew how you treated me and he will break your engagement immediately. I am his eldest relative and he would never stand for..."  
Lizzie stopped hearing anything. The blood pounded in hear ears as she looked at, suddenly awake, faces on Jane and Charlie.  
"I'm not engaged to Will!" she hissed. The both nodded slowly. "I haven't seen him for two months!"  
"..and if you insist on keeping him where his honour only would hold him, his family will reject you and you'll never be able to show your face in any respectable house or company. I'll make sure nobody ever considers hiring you!"  
*peep*  
Jane grabbed the receiver and dialled the call centre number of their phone service.  
"Jane Bennet speaking. I'd like to know if we could block calls from a specific number on this line. No, foreign. Please check, yes. We need this phone online but someone from England keeps calling us not taking the time difference into account. Yes, probably enough. If she calls from some other number, I'll call you and... Thank you so much!"  
She pressed the disconnect button and put the receiver on the table.  
"In an hour she'll be blocked. Until that time we are supposed to keep the phone like this."  
"One little bit of good fortune for today. I wouldn't expect more. But I will fall asleep the moment I lie down. And I _should_ get some more sleep before tomorrow. Who will put it back?" Lizzie yawned again.  
"I can set up my alarm and do it. Or I'll stay up a moment, iron my shirt or something and just go to sleep in an hour" Charlie offered.  
Jane made a face.  
"Thaaanks" Lizzy's eyes were closing of their own volition. "I suppose I have learned something today."  
Jane raised her brows.  
"What in particular?"  
"Like that Will's family basically hates the thought of him marrying woman not from their circles. Probably anyone who is not his cousin Anne."  
Charles made a face.  
"You mean Anne the Stick Figure?"  
She managed to open her eyes and look questioningly.  
"Well, that's what Will and Rick call her. Will once said that he could almost hear her bones clinking when she walked."  
"Is she sick?" Jane's voice was full of concern.  
"Will didn't say. I'd say anorexia, but... Well. Will said whatever it was, they - his family - are not getting him to marry her out of pity. She is quiet, but when she finally opens her mouth, one begs for her to shut it - she asks stupid questions, she makes insipid remarks and she is - supposedly - even nastier towards the staff than his aunt. And she seems to think that money is a solution for everything."  
Jane made a face, again.  
"You never said she was so wicked, Lizzy?"  
"Well, she said next to nothing when I visited their office once, so I had no idea."  
Charlie rubbed his cheeks, feeling slight stubble.  
"Will also said that Anne doesn't want children - even if she could have any - and he wants lots. He WAS pretty drunk by the time he said this, but still, there may be something..."  
"Yeah" she yawned again. "See you in the morning, Charlie. When you put the receiver back, don't worry about me. I'll be sleeping like a log by that time, probably."  
"Nah, I'll put this one back and pick up the one in the hall. Will you mind if I call someone in the meantime?" Apparently England is up and about already."  
"Sure, go ahead. Just remember not to let her call before 5."  
"Will do."  
She finally closed her eyes, but the sleep didn't come. What did that awful woman say? Well, Charlie and Jane did meet when she was translating for him and Julie did meet Thomas when she was working for his business partner. So yes, some of her girls came out of this job with new life partners. But this was not the point of the agency!  
What else... Well, she WAS officially still working, but after the press panic... Well, her income was for all purposes non-existent. They got by on their interests but it was not much and if Charles didn't happen to own the building, they would have never been able to afford this flat. They could not even think about taking two separate ones.  
She felt a headache building.  
Charlie's voice drifted across the hall.  
"...yeah, pretty stressed. No, I thought you still were..."  
Well, she wasn't exactly broke. But she would need work, and soon. For now she was, indeed, exploiting a respectable young man, even if it was her sister who was taking the advantage of him physically. And they both enjoyed it, judging by the sounds.  
Still, if she were to find someone - and it didn't have to be the dark-hot-handsome kind of man - she should be independent. Will... no man would want an intelligent, educated and work-experienced parasite.  
She opened her eyes and stared at the nightstand clock.  
'Who am I kidding. Half of them would marry _Caroline_ without a second thought. The other half would actually be revolted at the thought of their wife working! Only a few would not only tolerate but encourage independence. Of course, majority of the first two groups would require independent WEALTH at the start...'  
She stifled a sigh.  
'So it means that it I don't find a job, a well-paid job, I would be not only a parasite, but a dependent, poor parasite. Exactly what this crazy hag said.'  
She looked at the binary clock Jane bought her as a birthday present when they were most successful. Someone asked her what she wanted and didn't have and she, happy with her life, said that she only lacked a binary clock and a chocolate fountain, that being two gadgets Lottie and her looked at on some website and really thought to be cool.  
So now it was 4:27, she was still awake, unemployed, down on money and she had a binary clock, because her budget for this month didn't include a normal one in it.  
Long time ago she read a book, where the main character won a lottery. He got a seafoam tramway and a preserved smoke ring. And something else... Champagne stirrer. And so she had her seafoam tramway, but nothing else.  
She felt anxiety rushing up in a wave of nausea she barely managed to calm down. The old stomach reaction to stress was not only unpleasant, but it reminded her strongly about secondary school maths teacher, exams and the dinner at the Rosenberg  & Sons, where she ate under the supervision of That Dreadful Woman.  
She closed her eyes and counted to ten. The morning. The morning will be bright, clear and she will simply rock on her new job interview. She will show them that she is indeed able to teach spoiled little girls how to behave in polite society, how to greet others in different cultures and which fork should be used to eat the fish. Well, she would probably focus mostly on the greetings and culture mixing.  
She blinked tiredly.  
Darcy would have heard about her from his aunt by now and was probably most shocked by her behaviour. Well, let him. Damn his aristocratic smile, his superior physique and his bloody sexy movements. Damn him all, together with his whole family. Well, maybe excluding Rick. Rick... Ahh, damn Rick, too. For distracting her and making his cousin go all apeman about her.  
Of course her mood had absolutely nothing to do with the fact that she had scheduled her most important job interview up to date on Friday, 13th. She was not superstitious, not a bit.  
  
Suddenly the light changed and she abruptly sat up on her bed.  
The binary clock stoically showed 6:55 and her headache was rising to yet unknown heights. She stumbled out of her bed, grabbed a bottle of painkillers from the bathroom and blindly turned the coffee machine on. When she finally managed to swallow half of the daily dose and wash it down with completely black coffee, Jane and Charlie were already up and observing her closely.  
"Did you eat anything before drinking the coffee?" Jane put some toast bread into the toaster.  
"Nnnooo" she yawned.  
"Well, it means you are in for another day of aching, only a bit lower than your head is."  
Charlie prepared, ate and washed after his scrambled eggs and by the time Lizzie got to actually eat something resembling breakfast, he was sitting there with a smug exp ****ression that had nothing - completely nothing - to do with Jane's presence.  
  
"Don't worry so much, Lizzie" Jane watched her in the rear-view mirror. "You'll do great, they will love you... and you _know_ you can deal with teens."  
"That's so. At least I can finally use that teaching certificate Dad insisted we got."  
The day was grey and rain was threatening to intensify at any moment. Charlie was the only cheery person at the breakfast table - Lizzie barely conscious and Jane worried about Lizzie. His stubborn attempts to liven up the meal grated on Lizzy's nerves, but he was after all Jane's boyfriend and she _was_ grateful for his allowing hem to rent this place so cheaply.  
She sighed. Jane was already manoeuvring into the parking place.  
"You have everything? Documents, laptop, wallet?"  
"Sure. Thanks for the lift, Jane. I'll call you as soon as I know anything."  
"Here" her older sister handed her a pack of saltines. "Eat at least one before the interview, will help to calm down your stomach."  
"I'll try. Bye."  
  
The hall was empty but for a receptionist desk and a smiling, matronly woman who watched her curiously from behind it.  
"May I help you?"  
"Good morning, yes. My name is Elizabeth Bennet I am supposed to meet a Mr Bates here at 9:20. I am a bit early, I suppose, so could you point me to a place where I could sit and wait for him?"  
The receptionist - MAGGIE, as her badge stated - smiled and gestured towards the left wing of the school.  
"Second door on the left here is the lounge used by parent who pick up their children. I'll call Mr Bates and direct him there."  
"Thank you so much" they both smiled and Lizzie soon disappeared into the lounge, as Maggie dialled a short number.  
"Cammie? Tel Mr Bates that his 9:20 is here, waiting in the parents' sitting room. Yes, a Miss Bennet."  
The sliding door opened again.  
"Good morning, sir. We weren't expecting you today."  
"Good morning, Maggie. I wasn't expecting myself to be here either, but... stuff happens."  
She nodded and marked something in her book.  
  
Lizzie sat in one of the armchairs and pulled out her EeePC to check - for the last time - if she had covered all the points from the invitation e-mail. Just in case Jane asked, she opened the saltines and took a bite of one, trying not to get crumbles on her good suit.  
As she was putting checkmarks next to the points in MS Project to-do list, a man entered the room and approached her.  
"Miss Bennet? Welcome to our school. I'm Jonas Bates and I'm the head of recruitation. Please, come with me."  
"Good morning. Nice to meet you, Mr Bates. I'll just hibernate this and..." she pressed some keys and slid the little laptop into her handbag. "I'm ready."  
  
The room they finally entered had an ascetic, utilitarian air.  
"This interview will consist of the following parts: the review of your CV, the general talk about your experience and skills and the exam. During the last part you will be asked several questions, up to twenty, on various aspects of behaviour in formal and semi-formal situations. Is this clear?"  
After her confirmation, he proceeded to interrogate her on point after point of her CV, which led quickly to explanation of her current situation and loss of the agency. They moved smoothly to her skills and abilities and discussed her teaching experience.  
Suddenly Mr Bates straightened in his chair, smoothed the papers and pronounced it to be the time for the exam.  
"In a few minutes, I will leave you alone in this room. You will communicate with the examiners by this microphone. They will describe different situations and ask about your opinion or advice on the topic. Do not hesitate to say you have no idea what to do - just try to _suggest_ something. We expect students to ask the teachers various kinds of questions and everyone is supposed to be able at least to refer the student to appropriate sources.  
He closed the door and joined the group in the next room.  
Lizzie looked around, waiting for the questions to begin, but the room lacked any ornamentation which she would have been able to focus on. Instead, she pulled out her laptop and opened a text editor window.  
"Good morning, Miss Bennet" the voice was coming from the speaker in the middle of the table. "My name is Annabel Forsythe and I'll be overseeing your examination today. Please, state your name clearly to the microphone so that we could test the connection."  
"Good morning, Mrs Forsythe. My name is Elizabeth Marilla Bennet."  
"Thank you. My colleagues here are the members of the Parents' Council and senior teachers. Question one, please?"  
"Miss Bennet" the voice was feminine, rather high-pitched, but pleasant. "Have you ever participated in a meeting with foreign ambassadors?"  
"I have, six times."  
"Were the countries involved from one cultural region, or various?"  
"On at least two of these occasions there were representatives of all continents."  
"Very well. Could you describe to us how you prepared for such a meeting? Such varied company must call for some knowledge of each of the cultures, at least a vague notion."  
Lizzie focused on her laptop cover and described the typical pre-meeting research - checking the embassy webpages, asking other girls in the agency, searching websites on appropriate greetings, calling the information numbers in embassies and consulates etc.  
"Thank you, Miss Bennet. Next question...?"  
The following questions varied, from the right silverware for eating untypical food to the official and professional rules governing various situations.  
At some point there was a slight shuffling sound, as if the examiners were moving their chairs.  
"Miss Bennet" that was Mrs Forsythe. "This will be the last question but one. Could you please elaborate a bit on the topic of appropriate timing for phone calls? And on proper places in which to conduct them?"  
She inhaled sharply.  
"Well, I'd start with the place part, if I may..."  
Lizzie went on autopilot. The mobile phone culture being her personal fixation, she was eager to hurt anybody who did not shut the mobile when entering a theatre.  
"And what about timing?"  
She bit her thumb.  
"Timing, I'd say, is sometimes more tricky. It depends on the level of acquaintance, the urgency of the call and how is the recipient able to help, specifically in not-office hours. Of course, if I called an office and someone picked up at 10 PM, I would treat them as fair game - they _did_ stay at work! As to mobile phones and home landlines - depends on the situation. I cannot give you any example right now, but there may be situations when even calling a slight acquaintance at 2 AM is acceptable."  
"Let's say you stayed after hours and hear - and witness - a burglary in finance department. Who would you call? It's 11:30 PM, everyone is going to bed now."  
She didn't even think.  
"First, the police. Second, the main accountant. If unavailable, I'd call to next employees in the order of seniority, at the same time informing my boss and-or his secretary."  
"Thank you. The last question?"  
"Yes" his voice made the hair on her neck to rise. "In reference to the last question, but taking it from the other end - could you tell me how you would treat an unexpected, late-night call to you?"  
"Also, depending on the reason and..."  
"Suppose it's around... 4 a.m. Appropriately barbaric hour, isn't it? And the caller is absolutely, completely unreasonable. Let's say, an irate elderly female relative of someone you know?"  
She thought, biting her pen.  
"I would probably pick up the phone, because my line does not support Caller ID" she heard a few muffled chuckles from the speaker. "Then, depending on the topic and my sleepiness, I'd either just cut the connection or try to reason - with arguable success, I'm afraid."  
"Suppose she is insistent? Calls for the second time?"  
"I'm afraid that at 4 a.m. I'm not a spectacular example of civility. I'd cut the connection and if she got me angry enough, she would hear my sentiments towards people who call at such an ungodly hour."  
"I understand your opinion completely. But what if she doesn't stop calling?"  
She tapped her lips with the pen cap.  
"If it was a real-life situation, my sister would have woken up about the time of the second call. At third, I'd be awake and furious, so the caller would most probably hear exactly what I think of her. Calls five and six would have been taken care of by the answering machine and then, most probably, my sweet, angelic sister would have solved the problem by leaving the receiver off the phone or calling our phone service to block any new calls from the last calling numbers" she smiled wickedly. "This is, I'm afraid, not the PROPER way of dealing with things, but probably the most REASONABLE one - you just can't talk logic with some people and all courtesy should be properly balanced with common sense in order to produce an appropriate level of assertiveness. Trying to be overly polite may only end in getting more thoroughly abused, because they will view such an approach as weakness. And blocking the calls, although a bit forceful, will give you a chance to sleep, and probably follow the problem up in daylight."  
There was a moment of silent pause.  
"Thank you, Miss Bennet" he said finally. He sounded so serious and worried, she wanted to hold him. "One little, additional question - what would you do about the acquaintance, whose aunt had called you in such a way?"  
She bit her lower lip.  
"I would say it was not their fault, is they asked. Common sense, again - one cannot control all their family, especially the crazy female parts."  
Among the quiet chuckles, she heard a heavy sigh.  
"Thank you, Miss Bennet" he said with all sincerity.  
  
"So, common sense?" he drawled, looking down at her.  
"I'd say so" she gasped with delight, as he did something absolutely _wonderful_ with his fingers.  
"And, how did you say it..." he stopped in order to move a bit lower. "Controlling the female, crazy parts of one's family?"  
"Well, you have a lifelong experience, as do I" she purred and stretched her back, arching towards his hand.  
"But I'd say I have pretty good control of you now. And you are female" he laid on his side, fingers still moving lazily.  
"And crazy" she added between gasps, wriggling a bit.  
"Still, you are not my family" he moved her knees apart an inch more.  
"Indeed" she gasped and rolled her hips, as his fingers crawled closer to her centre.  
"Would you like to be?" he touched her inviting wetness with just a fingertip.  
"Wh... what?"  
"Would you like to be? I mean, my family?"  
His middle finger was slowly making his way into her thoroughly drenched opening.  
"Well?" he stopped just a fraction of inch away.  
"Wiiiiilllll" she uttered shrilly. "Plllease!"  
"Oh, yes, please, but only after you answer my question."  
His finger traced the outer contours of her womanhood, moving once again away from the very point where she wanted him to be.  
"I... Will, why now?"  
Her eyes finally opened and she shot him a look full of frustration, which changed immediately into delight as soon as he dipped one of his fingers inside her, into the warmth. He moved it carefully, drawing more of these wonderful gasps and moans he came to know over the last hour or so.  
"Well, maybe because the topic just came _up_?" he smiled and trailed the pink areola with small kisses. "Or because now I have you at a disadvantage and may demand an answer?"  
She licked her lips, suddenly dried of all moisture.  
"Willl" she moaned. "Please, just..."  
His thumb barely, barely touched her little pearl. A small, tiny flick. A moan, a hip-wriggle and a bitten lip.  
"So...?"  
"WHAT?" she shouted, feeling his finger sinking into her.  
"Will you marry me?"  
"Willll!"  
He brushed a small, tiny point inside her he had just reached and her hips jumped off the bed.  
"You are evil and cruel!" she pouted admirably as he prevented her body from coming into more contact with his own.  
"Are you going to answer my question? _Will you marry me_?"  
He stressed the last word by adding a tiny pressure in one spot.  
"Why ask NOW?" she gasped, frustration clearly visible on her face.  
"Because I'm a well-bred, properly-brought up, good boy who won't make passionate, mind-blowing love to a girl he does not intend to marry. I made a New Year resolution to be a gentleman. So, will you?"  
His kisses were slow but made her move in a most wanton fashion.  
"Wwwwiiiilll" she was loosing the ability to speak properly. Hell, she lost it half an hour ago, when he finally unhooked her bra.  
"Soo...?" his lone finger moved around, widening and stretching her and as he lowered his head to capture a stone-hard nipple, another finger entered her.  
"Yes! Oh, yes!" she buckled her hips to his hand.  
"I'll take this as... yes" he chuckled, withdrawing his hand and smiling when he heard her disappointed moan.  
"Just a minute, love" he raised over her and moved his attention to her flat, shapely belly. "I want to hear this 'yes' several times tonight... I want to make sure you indeed _agreed_ to my... proposal."  
The last thing she remembered before the torment began again was the display on the bedside clock which at that very moment jumped from 23:59 to 00:00, thus ending a rather eventful Friday the 13th. The 13th of February.  
" _Well, this is a_ proper _way to begin the Valentines Day_ " Will smirked, dropping kisses on the curve of her hip.


End file.
